The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 26, 1899, Page 18

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1899. ~ ARCHBISHOP IRELAND WHO MAY BRING o Member of His Church, Cler'c or Layman, Is 2 More Typic: THE CATHEDRA L SHOP IRELAND PRE Ac INDAY OF ¢ The man o: the hour among America quent Archbishop of St. Paul. He cordially recelved by Leo XIII, wh fidence in Archbishop Ireland’s ju tions in this countr; churchman are predicting that the Here is an interesting character study of the pri Speclal to The Sunday Call. St. Paul, Minn., Feb. 22. OHN IRELAND, Archbishop of the dlocese of St. Paul, now on a visit to Rome, is regarded as one of the intellectual giants of America. He passed his sixtieth birthday on the 1ith of last September, but both mentally and physically appears to be in the prime of life. His hair is lron gray, b the casual observer would not guess his age at more than 48. In this community, where he has done most of his church work, he has been rec- ognized as a man of ldeas for nearly tbirty - years. His colonization schemes early branded him as a man of originali- ty, and his later aggressive methods of pushing @he “Faribault school plan” and in galned for him the admiration many cases the indorsement of thinking men of two continents. He is perhaps the most liberal minded of the leading Cath- olic clergy of the United States, and it is & common remark that the Catholics of this archiepiscopal see are the best edu- cated in the country. Archbishop Ireland’s Residence. The Archbishop lives in one of the heau- ty spots of the city of St. Paul. His house is' located at the corner of Leslie and Portland avenues, two blocks north of Summit avenue, said to be one of .the three most charming drives in America. In this home he spends most of his time when in the city. His life there is as sim- ple and unostentatious as it 1s possible to ‘make it. He arises regularly every morn- ing at 5 o'clock, and the two hours from that time until 7 he employs in the devo- tlons common to his church. At half- past 7 he breakfasts with the members of his household. He is a man of great personal magnet- B A i 4dh dn -t o e ol Gt oo i B i Chs oCie oeon e an o 2| 566006006000000006060060 THE EVILS OF A LR 2 KR R PPOPS00006909006060060 . HE period is easily within the | memory of the present genera-| tion when our country people | ceased to be the sort of good | Americans who when they died | went to Paris. The rapid movement of that series of marriages which trans- | Jatéd so many of our simple maidens in | their flower—not to speak of the well- dowered dows — into peeresses of Great Britain accomplished the diver- sion of our social idolatry to England. In New York is the influence of this great cult most visible and continu- | ing. But it has spread all over this continent, where the farther away one gets from New York the more one ob- serves a curious interest in the achieve- | ments of our society performers. It is | only a faint and frigid interest the la- | dies who read these columns at lhree‘ days’ distance from their fountain head | wiil take in the marriage of a fash- | jonable belle of Gotham with a for- eigner of title, unless he be a subject of | the Queen. In the crepuscular days of Anglo wor- ship among us, husbands and wives went to church together every Sunday morning arm in arm, attended by a | Noah’s ark procession of their young. On all public occasions the lord was seen beside (not in the wake of) his| wife, and, whether he felt so or not, he did not deem it his duty to Fashion ta look bored. A couplé of married lovers were not . disconcerted at being found together | by callers, or at being met far from the haunts of men seeking each other’s society undisturbed. A young unmarried man who vis- ited at their homes was usually given over ‘for entertainment to the giris of the family. If there were no girls he usually stayed away, unless bidden for dinner or a dance. The offspring of pious Episcopalian, | Presbyterian or Baptist families, who | had come to the front as heads of the | community, would have been shocked beyond measure at the horrid image of a young wife habitually receiving visits alone from an. admirer, even of the Platonic order of friends. Nor would the youthful matron have dreamed of giving the public reason for calling this | exotic -appendage of a household “her especial property. Then echoes sounding from the other gide announced that many of the great Jadies of England who had come to be | the models of their republican sisters ! were no longer seen in public with | their lords except on occasions of the most exacting ceremony. Suppose a | New York girl who had made a great marriage in the British aristocracy re~ turning to her natlve city, and when surrounded by her particular chums, all eager for details of life in her ex. | alted station, giving them a nk‘turel that was to many a disagreeable, to some a painful. revelation! Protests on | their part, met by a shrug, a laugh, ag | gesurance that it was the custom “over | [ | ST PAUL \vHERES HES Trz ACIH MorNTH = Some friends of By Mrs. Burton Harrison. n Catholics is John Ireland, the elo- is now visiting Rome, where he was n once shewn his con- cal ques- the distinguished American red hat waits him in the near future. and the man. 0 has more th dgment regardi ism, & conversationist of unvarying Inter- est and of remarkable versatility. While the meal g golng on he keeps up a steady stream of talk, witty, fascinating, good natured and direct. = His wit is of the “cavalry” order. Tt is kXeen and clever, but never flippant. He puts everybody within hearing “on edge,” and sends. ail to thelr day's work in cheerful mood. The breakfast hour over he retires to his study, runs over the morning papers, summons his secretary and begins the labors of the day. Right here becomes evident his startling grasp of every sub- ject from church to charity, from paro- chial school to seminar His corre- spondence indicates that he gives the plaint of the poorest woman in St. Paul as painstaking attention as the appeal of the Bishop of North Dakota on a matter of church polity. His hours from 9 o’clock to noon are spent in his study. His very voluminous corespondence out of the way ho writes or dic S a sermon, or reads. At mnoon devotio: resumed, after which dinner is . and at 2 o'clock the Archbishop appears promptly at his office at the cathedr: His Working Day. Here all the priests of the see of St. Paul who have grievances or who wish orders, suggestions or instructions are ex- pected to appear. No business of this character s ever tramsactéd at the home of thé Archbishop. This work goes on from 2 to 4, and at 5 o'clock the distin- guished prelate returns to his home and meal is to his devotions. The evening served shortly after 6, and the hours thereafter till 9 are given over to study and work of other character. He retires not far from 10 o'clock each night and sleeps almost unifc ly seven hours. Plainness appears to be the great pre- late’s watchword—in the furnishings of L AR R X2 22 NGLO-WORSHIP : R R R Ry XX RS 460069600 would soon fall stified to the 468865858 The infection of brilliant recklessness, of refined daring, of fun seeking of an entirely new variety would not be slow to spread. And in its train would come inevitable consequences. The fashion of welcoming with en- thusiasm to our homes anv scion or British aristocracy whom reasons of finance or a need of tempo geclu- sion from the gaze of respectable peo- ple has exiled to our shores to answer for. Some of our guests might indced more appropriat- ly have been put out of their doors by the heads of the households they have contaminated. But this, luekily, i an occurrence of every day. There Is now such a give and take hospitality between England and America that it is quite easy for ordinarily well in- formed people to pick and choose their invites. And it is decidedly not fair to the rank and file of our visiting Britons | to bring up against them our own Stu- pid blunders in a less instructed past. The trouble is that we endeavor to fit ourselves in everything to the habh- its and customs of a few. absolutely reckless leaders of a fast and flagrant set of English aristocrats. On their own sofl their doings are held in dismay by hundreds of God fearing, decency loving families of ths | best blood and breeding. who do not choose to be judged by them, and are yet lost to sight in the dazzle of thelr | artificial glare. Tt is true that the fnevitable expo- sure of breaches of morality in our small and conspicuous society, the brief reign of the woman who dares. her dire fall from grandeur in the eyes of an enormous continent raving for such news, act as checks upon others who might seek to emulate her. The pitiful part of it is that the poi- son ever came to us from that proud example among nations, that source of 0 many of the highest virtues in the English epeaking world. But it is here, and, so far. no scientist has dis- covered a cure for jts ravages in our moral atmosphere.—New York World. — e The Adamless Eden. Truly, women are becoming free and in- dependent. Not long ago I noticed the fact that women were becoming more congenial to each other, citing as an ex- ample the difference between the hour after dinner. when the men remain be- hind over their wines and cigars, to-day, as compared with that dreary hour a dec- ade ago. But I had not then heard of the latest step toward independence of poor man, which hgta become such a fad among the women 8 to-day, The very newest fad is a dinner to which not one man is in- ;‘;letz—u kind of Adamless Eden sort of a ast. Wil it last? Are the women strong enough to do away entirely with man’s society and find unalloyed pleasure in their own? This i8 a conundrum which remains to be solved. In the meantime, to be at the top notch of falls in swell- dom at least one Adamless dinner must 1be given during the season. IRELAMND ARCHBISHOP OF THE DIOCESE OF T PAUL nis home, in his dress, in his speech, in his a His home is roomy and of at- tractive exterior, but within it {s almost rerity of its plainness. everywhere, but of up- nd divans, velvet car- pets, gorgeously patterned curtains and mahogany s, none whatever. There are curtains on the windows, to be sure, but they are of almost the plainest qual- ity to be found. The chairs are numerous and substdntial, but they are of wood of the cheaper varieties and without earv- ings-or other striking ornaments. There are tables and paper and other materials for work, but nowhere is there any evi- dence that a penny more was expended for anything than was necessary to se- cure such results as one would expect in a great workshop. Devotion to Charity. For the last twenty vears Archbishop Ireland has given much attention to al Repre-entative of American Catholicism in I's Most Liberal Phases Than Is the Archbishop of St. Paul, b ) :?QESIDENCE ELAND, corNE Dl Esiie A ke I charity and the promotion of enterprises looking to the amelioration of the con- dition of the very poor. He is a member of the St. Paul organization known as the Associated Charitlies. This body is made up of representatives from all the charitable socleties, Catholic and Protest- ant, of the Minnesota capital. He does not act in this organization because of his eminence in the Catholic church, but be- cause of his deep Interest in charity. e never misses a meeting when in the city, often makes addresses and is fruitful of suggestions looking to the inerease of the funds available for the worthy poor. He is besides a moving spirit in ail the Catholic charity societies and gives much in private charity. One of his secretaries, _who spent two years in his residence, says the Archbishop never turned a beggar from his door absolutely empty handed. He gives money to them with slight ques- tioning, and seldom in amounts less i.an OF ARCHBISHOD | - OF PORTLAND =S. ST. PAOLL .. AVENG ‘great educational institution 31, the amount often being as high as $5 or $10. It is‘related of him that one even- ing in winter a forlorn looking man came to his door and asked for a quarter. Fumbling in his pockets for a minute .the Archbishop brought up 4 twenty-dollar gold plece, and, handing it to the .ellow with a smile sald: “That is a little more than you need to-night. ~Take it," use what you have to, and make the remaind- er the nucleus for the fortune which you have it in your power to win.” Gave Away His Library. Up to two.years ago Archbishop Ire- land was the possessor of the finest li- brary in the Northwest. Shortly after the Hill Seminary here got under way as a it found it- self much in need of books of reference. ‘The matter having been called to the at- tention of the chief of the church here, he, without the slightest hesitation, ordered @MW‘M—M*M—@-*HOM+OW®"*MM@*’@ Bl s o o d PARABLE OF THE PEARL: SUNDAY SERMON- BY REV. ROBERT COLLYER. Church of the Messiah, Unitarlan, New York City. “The kingdom of heaven islike unto a had found one pear. of great price, went ;45 46. F we wonder how it was that this jewel should have cast the spell of its splendor over the eye and heart of the humble artisan, some hint may lie in the intimations we pos- sess that this was the time for what may be called a carnival of pearls among the masters of the world—"the ingular and only jewels,” Pliny says, nd nature's wonder.” They were wearing them then, not alone in carca- nets and on coronets, but on their very sandals. It may be mentioned also as a bit of | curious treasure-trove, which hclds an- | other gieam for me and for my purpose | here, that among the dreams and specu- lations of those times, touching the origin of the jewel, these may have lain’ tamong the folk-lore to which the boy | would listen: = That the pearl was born of the dew from heaven, gathered into one peérless globe falling through the sunshine or the shadows, to create the | clear or the clouded splendor. Or again, | it was born from an angel’s tear falling | from on high, while the rarest and most | beautiful caught their beauty and their | worth from falling athwart a flash of | lightning in a storm. | These dreams may have reached the teacher of divine thirigs as he listened to the talk at the fireside or in the mar- | ket place, and may lie among the rea- | sons or the guesses when we wonder why he takes the pearl for a symbol of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven | in our human life and lot. T There is a truth at the heart of the symbol, in its creation. We learn from | the masters of our modern time that the primal reasons for the wonder may be traced to a grain of flint which has | invaded the close-encrusting shell and | stabbed the delicate .creature, down there in the deeps, so that from its own life the ichor flows for help and protection against the hurt, covering the flint slowly, but surely, and round- ing to the pearl. Or, they say, it is a parasite with which the creature must do battle by encasing the invader, fold on fold, and then dying; but there' is the jewel born of the battle. And again that it comes from the frustrated promise of another life—a promise which can mever be made good: but the frustration finally grows to the pearl. And the poet sings: of the Indian Ssa its pear] elaborates in tae unresting main, In worth proportioned to the creature's Untli. Ih rosy luster, perfect grown, It comes to light as worthy of a crown. May we not blend the imaginations. of the old time with the revelation of the new? For the truth I would touch, in some poor fashion, is of the myster- jes which we can never fathom. vet must ever ponder, while we also have to suffer the impact of the flints. to fight the parasites, and to meet the frustrations of life—the great and beautiful mystery, to me, of the way some noble treasures may be won for the world's life and our own through the flints of circumstances, the slaying of some dear hope and joy, and the angei’s tear. falling athwart the bolt in the old imagination; the shining treasure which may not and cannot be won through ease and pleasantness and the wealth of a good which knows of no heart’s bruise, no sore invasion of our life in the shell of this human tab- ernacle, no blighted hope and no sore burden; but by these, rather, and through them, the jewel brought forth in your life and mine, find in the world’s life through all the aBes—and always true to the proverb, “Where Lpain ends, gain ends.” Glanee first toward the nations which have won the priceless pearl of the freedom to be men and not mere serfs, or pawns for the chessboard of kings. Search their story down to the deeps and you will always find the flint and the parasite in the advent of the pearl. It ‘is the story of-my motherland through a thousand vears. The reason for the great chatter lies there, and for the great rebellion when the manhood of England set its foot on the neck of her king. The finest ichor of that man- hood is the secret of the pearl; and the splendor of the jewel marks the burden of the pain through which the man- hood must pass to its purpose. It is the story of that long, stern strife in the mountains of Switzerland, when one humble hero was only an in- stance of the grand manhood which won the treasure, the hero who gath- ered all the spears he could clutch to his breast that so he might clear the way to freedom and create the pearl. It is the story of the mighty passion of the Hollander to be free from the bitter and base yoke of Spain—always base and always bitter, be it within thg sea walls of Holland or yonder until so recently on the fair island to the south—when he broke down those great sea walls he had built as barriers about the green lands and loved homes, wel- coming the water floods and counting all things else but loss for the excellent glory of the pearl. And in the ever glowing passion of your fathers—from the coming of the Pilgrims, whose story has touched the heart of every home-born man and gone all around the world, from their landing to the advent of the republic and the revolution; in the great strife for the integrity of the republic, and just now in the strangling of oppression at the threshold of our land—through all the years, you find the ichor of your finest life poured out to bring forth the Jewel. 7 s s = Do we turn from the nations to the treasures which have made our life so rich in these last times, and lifted so many sore burdens of labor and pain? 1 cannot find one of the finest worth over which men have not poured the ichor of their life for the pearl when the pang has struck them. Turn to what we call the finer arts, Td we think of men like the creator of “The Angelus” and “The Sower’'— men of whom the world was not worthy, doing their noblest work pained by the flint, pouring their life into the trea- sure, while many a time it was their fortune to die that the pearl might be perfected in splendor and noblest worth; while with some we also re- member that what we call the “for- tune” came to those who open the shell and clutch the pearl. Or of another fine soul who, as he lay on his death. bed, said to his friend, “Lift me up' the picture was his pearl, he would touch it with one more gleam of ra- diance, and this done he fell on ‘sleep to 'awake In the city whose gates, to the seer’s vision, were of pearl, and every several gate one pearl. Or, turning tb the treasure that has come to us in great and noble books and lives, it is ond& more to be aware of the mystery, the supremacy, of the kingdom of heaven. Milton, old, blind, poor and outcast, flashing forth in the dark encrusting shell the peerless splendors of the “Paradise Lost” for a sum the meanest laboring man in England would despise for day’'s wages when you count the days. And Bun- yan, in his den, trying to earn a crust of bread for the weans and wife, while merchantman, seeking goodly pearls: who, when he and sold all that he had, and bought it.” JMatt. the small blind wean sits near him— Bunyan in the dark encrusting shell poring over the flint of evil circum- stances the ichor which has won the world's worship in his matchless pearl’ of the “Pilgrim’s Progress to the City of God.” And Robert Burns, tormented by the pang of the flint, fighting the parasite or mourning the frustrated hope—for here all the plagues seem to meet in the shell of one human life—Robert Burns, “pouring out the ichor of his heart, great as the world in its sympathy, and sweet in its tenderness as His heart who spake the parable; th€ grandest man of his time in grand ofd Scotland, making his motherland glorious in songs that stir you like the sound of trumpets on the eve of great battles, draw you to a mouse in tender pity, and to his hu- man family with the chords of the man, to so sweet and true a purpose that, of all our great singers and strong ‘and true, he is to me the swéetest and strongest, the man above all other men of our age who was sent from God to hasten the time |, L When men to men the world o'er Shall brothers be for a’ that. And Charles Lamb, turning from his youth’s fair dream of. a maiden peer- less he would some day call “my wife,” burying his dream in a level grave that he might make a home for that hapless sister Mary, through more than forty years, “in single doubleness”—as he writes his friend—this man giving us the jewel shining with a light that never lay on land or sea, made precious by the angel's tear .that fell through the bolt of doom on the troubled home of his early manhood, and the rich and rare beauty born of the flint. Shall we turn to the sacréd story— life which holds for us the ver;yu;ll;: of this supremacy of heaven and of God? It is the story which touches the prophets and saints of all time, and the things said-and the deeds done in dun- geons, while the headsman was waiting at the gates. These in all the ages have glven us the pearls of great price through tribulation and distress, while to my own heart he sits enthroned of whom it was_ written “It pleased him in whom all fullness dwells to make the captain of their salvation perfect through suffering” —the man Christ Jesus, who bore the cross and despised the shame that we might possess the pearl beyond all price, and hold it for all time. And I have brooded over the lovely similitude as memories have touched me of the many I have known and loved in all these years, some of them far away ih time and space, and some no more on earth—those who had borne sore burdens o bravely and so sweetly that, as the poor human shell wore away, the pearl shone ever the clearer through; of those who had fallen on sad and sore frustration of our human hope and joy, but hed stood firm by the white banner of faith—faith in the supremacy of heaven and of God over ell, and had kept their rank and num- ber to the end and left us the pearl of great price. 2 And ever as I have listened to voices speaking so tenderly of courage and a patience which seemed to be one with the patience of God, while the ichor of their life was enfolding the flint—then the shadows have seemed to be sweeter than the light, because of the pearl. Is it not indeed true, and forever true, that a treasure can come to us through this supremacy of heaven in the pearl, that can never come throuch the joy and strength of life? And that the di- vinest truths life can reveal to you and to me lie within this mystery? his own library to be carted to the in- stitution. His order was obeyed, and, with the &xception of a dozen books, the whole valuable collection has ever since remained at the disposal of the students. Archbishop Ireland seldom mixes in political life in the sense of delivering addresses and making pleas for one party or the otlier. He {s a man of pronounced opinions on all State and natlonal toples, and exercises his influence+in his own way, but the occasions have been few on which he felt it hi§ duty to break his rule * of non-interference. One of theseoccasions came in the fall of 189%. The campaign between McKinley and Bryan had only about three weeks to run and twenty-six of the leading business men of St. Paul sent him a letter asking that he give to the public in his own way his views re- garding the great questions then before the citizens of the republic. On October 12 of that year he sent to the country what was then regarded as one of the great addresses of the contest which later ended so overwhelmingly ‘for McKinley. A few sentences from that paper will not be out of place here. Regarding money he sald: “The question -before the people of America to-day is the coinage of silver by this country, independently of the great commercial nations of the world, at the ratio of 16 to 1. This ratio is the double of the present commercial value of silver. The consequences of unlimited coinage in these circumstances are easily perceived. The free and unlimited coin- age of silver dollars at the ratio of 16 to 1 by the United States, independently of the great commercial nations, into dollars which shall be made legal tender, will disturb the whole business of the coun- try and bring upon it a financial depres- sion far beyond anything which we are now experiencing. That the great Amer- ican republic will as a nation declare to the world that it will now make a law compelling its creditors to besatisfied with half or a little more of the money they loaned to it, and go on record in the eyes of the world as a broken-down, bankrupt, repudiating nation, it is not possible to be- lieve.” WHY | AM NOT POOOOPOO O EALLY the question should be, why should I be a vegetarian? By a ‘“vegetarian” I here understand one who abstains from flesh eating; he admits to his table milk and eggs, but no-fish. Now I admit that vegetarians have one answer, and only one, that deserves an drgument. They give several that are not and fish eating are not at all necessary in any climate, or in any occupation, to nealth and vigor. This authorities deny. The facts seem to be: We find in the veg- etable kingdom the chemical elements mnecessary to support life. But many nutritious and more easily digested than the ' corresponding nitrogenous products of the vegetable kingdom and these are the. nourishing products, and further, are those for which man's internal organs are admirably adapted. Hence in cold and temperate climates both men leading ac- tive lives and invallds absolutely need flesh and fish. Another similar unfounded claim is that flesh and fish are inimical to the higher intellectual qualities. This clalm is en- tirely baseless. All the great intellects of the world in ancient and modern times have been pro- duced by flesh-eating nations. The intel- lectual giants among the Hindoos seem to be mere myths. A nation, in’ the very front rank at present, physically and in- tellectually, is the German people. They show abnormally good health and they eat whatever pleases their palates and their stomachs, and that seems a good rule to follow, seems indeed to he good common sense. Anyway the folks who eat and drink according to artificial rules will generally be found to be dyspeptics. And now especially when populations are Increasing and the exertion by the nervous system is beirng more and more intensifled, it would be sheer folly to lim- it the sources from which to draw our food supplies; it would be a sign of deca- dence, instead of advance, On the other hand there is no doubt that especlally here in America we eat too much meat, that is, well-to-do people do. Now we come to the argument which on the surface seems to have something In its favor, whi¢h certainly {s an amia- ble one, to wit, that {t is unkind to kill animals for food, that therefore it breeds cruelty in men, and that a perfect civil- ization could not tolerate butchers in its midst. I certainly have here stated the argument in ifs strongest form, and it will be seen that it will prevent us not merely from eating meat and fish but from using skins for dress and leather for gloves and boots and shoes. This ,argument can be completely an- swered. 2 The answer is: The consumer of flesh and fish may feel a perfect conscientious pleasure in eating them. Death is the inevitable termination of life in every instance in man or animal. A violent, instantaneous death is probably the most desirable mode for all—including man, when we come to see that there 1s Lo use of repentance for sins before dying: By Lawrence Gonlund, M.A. 900006000000 000000% 6060000000060 860060 at all tenable. Thus they claim that flesh | BACK A CARDINAL'S HAT FROM ROME. Who'Is Now Vis'ting the Pope in Rome. The Archbishop wrote and promulgated this address In the face of the fact that Thomas D. O'Brien, a leading member of his church, was the national Democratic committeeman from Minnesota and the further fact that the Catholics of the State were for Bryan in the ratio of 3 to 2. The diocese of St. Paul covers the three States of Minnesota, North Dakota and South Dakota. At the head of the prin- cipal see of St. Paul is the Archbishop himself, without the assistance of a co- adjutor Bishop. Then there are the suf- Cotter; Cloud, fragan sees of Winona, Bishop Duluth, Bishop McGolrick; St. Bgshop Trobec; South Dakota, O'Gorman, and North Dakota, Shanley. Bishops Cotter and McGolrick are now on their way to Rome. During the absenee of the Archbishop his func- tions will be performed by Bishop O'Gor- man. 3 Founded a Colony. One of the early works of Archbishop Ireland was the founding of a great col- ony in the counties -of western central Minnesota, with Graceville as a center. He was ome of the directors and chief promoters of the National Colonization Association. His first colony, made up of nine hundred Catholic farmers, was sent to Western Minnesota in 1876. It appear- ed to be such a success that he pur- chased 12,000 acres of land from the old St. Paul and Pacific Raiflroad Company. He continued buying from year to year until he had over 32,000 acres. For this land he contracted to pay the company $1 25 per acre, and was able to dispose of it, as a rule, at from $ to $9 an acre. The matter got into the courts and was fought for years on the claim by settlers that the selections made by the railroad company were invalid on their face and that it had 'no right to trans- fer to Archbishop Ireland or anybody else property in which it had no legal equity. A decision was rendered January awarding over 26,000 acres of this land to Treland. As there Is at this time over $5 an acre profit in this land, it is easy to figure that the Archbishop is a big finan- cial winner by the latest turn of affairs, In the Civil War. Right Rev. John Ireland was born in Burnchurch, County Kilkenny Ireland, September 11, 1838. When he was but a babe in arms his parents removed to St. Paul, and his early education was re- ceived in the cathedral school. ne was sent to France in 1853, and in September of that year; when he was but 15, he en- tered the Petit Seminaire of Meximeux, finishing the eight-year course there in four years. He studied theology at the Grand Seminaire at Hyeres, returning to St. Paul in 1861 and being ordained a priest when he was little more than 23 years of age. Upon the formation of the Fifth Minnesota Regiment young Ireland was made its chaplain, and served two years in the war of the rebellion. Returning from the field he was appointed rector of Cathedral Parish, the central and largest parish of the city, and continued in that position until he was named as coadjutor bishop. In 1870 he went to Rome as the ac- credited representative of Bishop Grace at the Vatican Council. In February, 1575, he was_chosen to succeed Bishop O'Gor- man in the vicariate of Nebraska, but through the efforts of Bishop Grace the appointment was canceled and he was then nominated coadjutor bishop of St Paul and was consecrated December 21, 1875. Besides the work of Archbishop Ire- land mentioned elsewhere, he was very ac- tive in securing the establishmnt of the Catholic University at Washington, tnd on his visit to Rome in 1887 was engaged, in conjunction with Bisfiop Kean in drawing a report on this subject for the Pope. is appointment as Archbishop daves trom 188, May Be a Cardinal. There is a pretty general impression here that he will be_made a _cardinal be- fore he returns from Rome. When he left St. Paul, a few weeks ago, his sister, Mrs, Justin McCarthy, sald to him jocularly: “You must not return without the red hat.”” To which he answered that the church has honcred him sufficlently and that he would be satisfied to remain in his present position to the end of his -days. D R e e o S o o o o OOV POPVOOOO0P0PB 0000000800000 0000¢ A VEGETARIAN P090900000 Accidents, wounds, insufficient at once to kill,. starvation, chronic -diseases, slow decay of nature, are surely the most to be - dreaded,. as causing the greatest amount of suffering. But the life, enjoyed by all animals, reared for food, whether in the poultry yard or In the field, is un- doubtedly a very happy one, happier as a rule than for man. For no other animal is existence so easy or may death be so swift and painless. The consclentious mixed feeder should then be aware that not alone is he the occasion of death to animals, but. he is also promoting life with all its joys in propagating them for | food, E Iy oting the P a0 SUDDOFt S - PUt many lféod, ant 15 thus actualiy gremadng the animal world. As Sir Henry Thompson says: “The breeding of animals for food confers life on millions of beings, possessing con- siderable capacity for enjoyment in their own way on the best conditions attain- able—superior in point of comfort, free- dom from pain and accidents, to those of the wild breeds. He confers a life, brief perhaps, but one well protected. - And when the last hour has come, happily un- foreseen and unsuspected, without the dread it brings to man, the stroke should fall instantaneously and without pain. This can be secured—is merely a question of poise.” Could it be conceived that but once a human dread were visible in the eyes of a steer, not the coarsest butcher could finish the stroke? And when all possible skill and care is employed, the trade of the butcher will ot be more objectionable than that of the surgeon, whom we shall always have with us. — e The Supply of Babies. It has been computed that about 36,000,- 000 babies are born into the world each year. The rate of production is, there- fore, about seventy per minute, or more than one for every beat of the clock. With the one-a-second calculation ev- ery reader is familiar, but it is not every one who stops to calculate what this means when it comes to a year's supply. It will, therefore, probably startle a good many persons to find, on the authority of a-well known statistician, that, could the Infants of a year be ranged in a line in cradles, the cradles K would - extend around the world. . The same writer looks at the matter in as more plcturesque light. He imagines the bables being carried past a given point in their mother’s arms, one by one, happiness of ! and the procession being kept up night and day until the last hour in the twelfth month had passed by. A sufficiently lib- eral rate is allowed, but even in going past at the rate of twenty a minute, 1200 an hour during the entire year, the re- viewer at his post would nave seen only the sixth part of the infantile host. In other words, the babe that had to be carried when the tramp began would be able to walk when but a mere fraction of its comrades had reached the review- er's post, and when the year's supply of babies was drawing to a close there would be a rear guard, not of ‘infants, but of romping six-year-old boys and girls.— 20 . \ B : ! i